


Marshmallows

by Azaraethe



Series: A Little Happiness [2]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Marshmallow Recipe Included, Nehan is a Dad, Parent-Child Relationship, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaraethe/pseuds/Azaraethe
Summary: Nehan finds himself saddled with a cough. Perhaps it might go away if he made some sweets with Mugen.Dedicated to everyone, especially -ahem my crying friends-, who loves Nehan and Mugen with all their hearts.
Relationships: Nehan & Mugen (Granblue Fantasy)
Series: A Little Happiness [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672420
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Marshmallows

There were three shooting stars that night.

They blazed across the darkness, whimsical trails of cold rainbows, and they blew up into fluffy pinprick sparkles, scattering across the endless horizon.

The night sky always looked resplendent on this tiny island. Every night, a thousand stars speckled and draped across the blackness in milky, opalescent streaks. The moon would rise above the distant ridges of mountains further across the emptiness between the islands, gleaming and brilliantly white, untouched by the fires of men.

Nehan cradled a ceramic cup of hot herbal tea in his hands as he sat on a flat rock outside his tent, watching the stars fall. Soon, it will be autumn on this island, and the easterly winds that brought summer warmth would soon herald in cold, frigid rains.

But for now, he will still be able to enjoy a few more halcyon days of summer on this island. 

A soft sniffling snore rose from behind him. He took a quick glance over his shoulder, at the gently breathing form wrapped in a large blanket, or rather a couple of large blankets. 

Nehan had stitched a few pieces of fabric together to make a giant, multi-colored quilt for the draph. It would help Mugen prepare for the coming months where the temperature would fall low. The erune was sure Mugen had really no need for a blanket. But the big draph seemed to take to the ridiculously-colored quilt in delightful abandon, clutching and rolling it about his colossal frame. 

The wind seemed mild tonight, whistling across the furred tips of his ears, tousling the uneven edges of his hair. The erune lifted a hand to pick at a tangled strand, noticing that the layers of silver-gray at his nape had grown long. He remembered he would need thicker clothing as well, and he made a mental note to communicate to the headquarters to drop more supplies for the next month. 

These thoughts made Nehan smile dryly to himself. He crouched forward, huddling his forearms to his knees and rocked the cup of tea in his hands. Banality was such a luxury; when did he ever have the time to dwell on such mundane day-to-day thoughts?

The erune took a sip of the tea, feeling the astringent herbal mixture work its way down his sore and painful throat. A lengthy cough riddled him, clutching at his lungs, and he swiftly pressed a hand to stifle the harsh sounds. In slow torturous degrees, his breaths calmed, winding down to muted rasping.

As his cough softened, thoughts start to crowd into his mind. Nehan’s fingers tightened around his cup, his silver-gray brow dipping down in a frown. Something strange was going on with the main family. In the last month, there were barely any requests made of him, and he was able to focus on his research. 

The lull was curiously unexpected, but Nehan was more than wary of such quiet times. And he was even warier because he was left entirely alone. It was blatant and glaring the Magasin was planning something of extremity, and would likely ship him back to headquarters on an ultimatum to execute their plans.

He should make haste then, he thought to himself. There were still many plants yet undocumented on this island, and just the other morning, he had trekked further than he used to, discovering a primeval glacial stream and significant growths of midnight daturas, and as well as a flowering fern which he only knew its name in the Karm tongue. It was a plant that warped the potency of Transcencia. 

Nehan took another long drink from his cup, his eyes distant and unfocused on the star-dipped night sky.

And there was Mugen. Surely, he could not leave Mugen alone on this island. A muscle twitched in Nehan’s cheek. 

It was growing late, and Mugen’s snores rose in volume as the moon descended, dipping downwards into the vast space between this island and next. The tea in Nehan’s cup had grown cold, and it no longer soothed the soreness in his throat. 

Nehan rose from the flat rock he sat on, dragging the fleece blanket about his shoulders tightly. The cup, with its half-drunk contents, was left on the small prep table outside his own tent. He should try to sleep, he thought and wake as early as he could. Perhaps he could find something to ease the pain in his throat as well. He stumbled a little as he pushed apart the tent flap and rolled into the thin blankets of his sleeping platform.

Mugen’s eyes peeled open slowly, his ears twitching to a roil of strange, hoarse sounds. The draph was lying on sheepskin thrown together to form a thin sleeping mattress. His giant hands clutched the ends of the multi-colored quilt tightly, pulling the huge blanket close to his nose. 

The noises continued, low and painful, the sharp barks and breathy sounds made Mugen hunch his shoulders and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. The sounds were foreign to him, and the formerly tranquil night soon became eerie and unfamiliar. A gust rose and chased through the tall trees that ringed the clearing. The boughs and branches chattered, listing and swaying above him. 

Mugen held his breath, and one eye opened warily, attempting to peek between his fingers. Another hacking, gasping sound suddenly cut through the ceaseless cacophony, and Mugen pulled the multi-colored quilt over his face, his broad shoulders hunching tightly to himself, attempting to burrow his bulk into his blanket.

“Nehan, Nehan…” The draph had cried, his rough voice muffled by the blanket he had pulled over his head. Mugen did not know the word or words to describe the trepidation coursing through his mind right now, nor the feeling of loneliness or that he was scared. Nehan’s name spilled endlessly from his lips as he scrunched his fingers into the fabric.

It was a long time before Mugen felt a tug at the blanket he had wrapped so tightly about his face and body. It was insistent and forceful, and he fought against its attempt to drag the blanket from him.

“No…”

“No… no take blanket…”

The draph yelled, shouting in a panic almost beneath the blanket, his hands balling into fists. 

“Mugen!” Nehan growled, the exertion on his voice was like daggers down his throat.

“Nehan…?”

Mugen let go of the blanket abruptly, and he heard a loud thud as the blanket was yanked away from his sights. Bright sunlight spilled across his face, and he squinted in irritation before his eyes grew huge and round upon seeing the erune on the ground. Nehan was holding the brightly-colored blanket in one hand and the other palming a pulled muscle on the waist.

“Nehan, hurt?”

Mugen hastened to get up, but his gait was clumsy, and his ankles hooked over each other. 

“No, I’m not hurt. Just sit down.” Nehan assured, putting up his hand forward in a halting gesture to the draph. The erune winced, feeling soreness at his bottom as he pulled himself to his feet slowly. He had sat heavily on a couple of rocks and rough soil. The thin fabric of his summer attire did little to cushion his fall.

The big draph obeyed, seating himself right on the spot and pulling his big knees to his chest. Nehan folded the blanket slowly and placed it in front of Mugen’s feet. Reaching out to touch the frayed edge of the blanket fondly, Mugen’s mouth widened in a silly, childlike grin. 

Leaving Mugen to fascinate himself with the blanket, Nehan stifled another cough and turned to make his way to the storage tent. He crouched down, rummaging through one of the wooden boxes, remembering that there might be a bottle of honey or two that came from the headquarters. It might not be so bad an idea to boil a mixture of honey and marshmallow root to soothe his aching throat. He could make some marshmallows too for Mugen; it would be a treat. There was a tea rose-briar at the perimeter of his camp, and the petals could be used to flavor the marshmallows.

Nehan was sure that Mugen would have never seen a marshmallow or tasted one. The children ate them with relish back in the village. The Karm adults never ate marshmallows. The soft, fluffy candies were too childishly sweet for those who came of age.

Even when he grew older, his sister continued to make them for him despite his persistent protests. She made them into little animal shapes - rabbits, birds, and fishes. And she made them into pale yellow stars which tasted honey-sweet, and she painted tiny smiling faces on them. 

Despite it all, he ate everything she made. But he ate them in the shadows of his home, away from the other children. The marshmallows were much more palatable compared to the bitter brews his mother would make him drink for his weak lungs. 

Nehan held onto the bottle of honey for a moment with both his hands, remembering something long past. Slowly, he caressed the bottle, his fingers running down the glossy amber surface. 

“Nehan…?”

Mugen had lumbered up behind him, clutching the colorful blanket close to his chest. 

“Nehan… Mugen, hungry.”

The draph whimpered miserably, and his arms folded against his barrel-like waist. 

Nehan rubbed the corner of his palm against his eyes, blinking away wetness. He turned around, the bottle of honey in one hand and a jar of powdered marshmallow root in the other. 

“Mugen?”

The draph eyed him expectantly, his wide brown eyes sparkling, “Nehan, have food?”

“Yes, we will make something to eat,” The erune replied hoarsely, stepping out of the tent and beckoning for the draph to follow him, “Come and help me.”

Nehan started a fire going in the little ring of stones and set a medium pot of water to boil. And before they made their way to the rose bush, the erune had to spend some time to persuade the draph to fold away his blanket. 

The erune deftly plucked at the plant, snapping off the wide-lipped, creamy-white blossoms. Nehan then tapped Mugen’s hands and made the draph hold his massive palms cupped as a temporary container for the flowers.

Mugen sniffed at the heap of rose blooms in his hands, canting his head in curiosity and delight. He liked being helpful, and especially when his actions made Nehan happy. The two returned to their camp, and Nehan patiently taught Mugen to separate the petals from the stems and pistils. When all that was done, he boiled the rose petals in one pot and added the marshmallow powder and another cup of water. He stirred, waiting for it to boil again before taking it off the fire to cool. 

Next, the boiled mixture was split; and one part went into a round ceramic bowl. To that, the erune poured in a pack of dried seaweed flakes.

“Nehan? What make food?” Mugen wound his hands together, bringing his fingers to his nose. His skin was very fragrant from the roses, and it gave him a good feeling.

“I’m making candy.” The erune looked up, a wry grin on his lips as he returned the pot to the fire. He unscrewed the bottle of honey and poured half of it into the pot. 

“Mugen not know candy.” A flustered expression came over Mugen’s face, and his brow drooped low. He bent his head slightly, looking at the gel-like liquid Nehan was stirring, “Nehan not make soup?”

“No, this is not soup.” The erune seemed to be amused as he lifted the stick away from the pot. Nehan pinched a droplet at the end of the stick, rolling the little sugar ball in his finger, satisfied with the consistency of the mixture. He poured the pot’s contents into a larger wooden bowl, added the seaweed liquid from the small bowl, and gestured meaningfully at Mugen.

“You’re going to help me here. Now, hold this,” Nehan instructed, placing the big bowl of marshmallow liquid on the draph’s outstretched hands. In a few quick motions, he tied several twigs together with a strip of bark and demonstrated how he would whip the liquid mixture.

“Mugen do right?” The draph asked, his giant hands knuckled in a tight grip around the makeshift whisk. He started to whip, trying to control his strength though a few dollops of the warm mixture flew out of the bowl, landing on his nose. 

“Slower,” Nehan placed his hand on Mugen’s wrist and tried to control the draph’s motions, swinging Mugen’s wrist in a circular motion, pacing him. “Yes, that’s right, you’re doing it right.”

Nehan smiled faintly to encourage the draph. He slipped off quickly back to the storage tent to find a large metal pan. And when he returned, he checked the bowl in Mugen’s arms, finding that the mixture had peaked into a snowy-white foam. The marshmallow was poured into the pan and smoothed out with a stick. 

Now they would wait until it was all cooled, and the candy, Nehan promised, will be ready to eat after their dinner.

Night had fallen once more, and bands of glittering light sparkled across the dark sky. From the east, a colder-than-usual wind lifted and gusted in.

Nehan had cut the marshmallows into large, star-shaped pieces and held out one to Mugen. The draph cradled the fluffy, soft sweet on his palms, his nose twitching at its fragrance, and he let out a gleeful sound as he took a big bite. 

“Candy good! Mugen like candy.” Mugen declared, stuffing the rest of the marshmallow into his mouth, leaving sticky bits of fluff on his lips. Entertained, Nehan laughed and gave the draph a second marshmallow. 

And when Mugen had eaten his fill of sweets, he laid flat on the ground, tired out. Nehan had laid the colorful blanket over Mugen’s splayed legs and chest. The draph pulled the material up to his chin as if by reflex, grinning to himself as he slept.

There was one marshmallow left - a smaller one which Nehan had cut from a leftover chunk. Oddly, his throat did not seem to bother him so much anymore, and the ache vanished. He stared nostalgically at the pale-white star in his hand.

With one small, weary breath, Nehan lifted the marshmallow to his mouth to take one tiny bite. It was very sweet, and it melted on his tongue. He ate the rest of it quickly, brushing the sides of his mouth with the back of his hand.

The night had grown deeper, and overhead, the stars fell again.

_Fin~_

**_Nehan’s Rose-Flavored Marshmallows_ **

_Half a cup of rose water (or any floral water such as orange blossom)_   
_Half a cup of water_   
_One tablespoon of marshmallow root powder_   
_One cup of clear honey (such as acacia and clover honey)_   
_One packet of gelatin powder (or soaked carrageenan liquid)_   
_One tablespoon of vanilla_   
_One pinch of salt_

_In a small pot, boil the half cup of water and the rose water._   
_Add the marshmallow root powder and stir with a flattened stick._   
_Simmer for five minutes and take the pot off the fire. Add one more cup of water and leave to cool._   
_Split the marshmallow mixture into two parts._   
_Pour one part into a bowl and add the gelatin powder. Set this aside._   
_For the other half of the mixture, add the honey, vanilla, and salt. Simmer. When you can make a soft ball with the mixture in your fingers, remove the pot from the fire._   
_With a whisk, mix the marshmallow and gelatin mixture._   
_Slowly add the hot marshmallow and honey mixture while you mix._   
_Once the two mixtures are combined, whip until soft creamy peaks are formed._   
_Pour mixture into an oiled metal sheet pan._   
_Let the mixture sit for a few hours._   
_Cut with a knife and enjoy._


End file.
